


may the odds be (never) in your favour

by MusicWritesMyLife



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 18:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5550986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicWritesMyLife/pseuds/MusicWritesMyLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the monotony of training the newest recruits to the army of the Republic, the only solace is to bet on new recruits. Anakin prides himself on his ability to pick the failures before training starts—like the small dark-haired girl who won't last ten seconds. He doubts she can hold a blaster. </p><p>(Obi-Wan may actually win the betting pool this year.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	may the odds be (never) in your favour

They always bet on the new recruits. Obi-Wan says it's not a good practice—they're the instructors after all—but he only seems to do it to justify placing his own bets. Training the new military recruits is a monotonous job—for both the clone commanders and the Jedi—and they amuse themselves in any way they can.

Anakin prides himself on his ability to pick the failures before training even starts. Obi-Wan, ever the optimist, usually roots for the underdog. He hasn't won in years.

Anakin spots them easily this time. The pink Twi'lek hovering nervously on the edge of the crowd won't likely make it through the first exercise. The tall, pencil-thin Alderaanian might make it through the first week. And the small girl with the dark ponytail won't last ten seconds. He doubts she can even hold a blaster.

"I wouldn't be so certain if I were you," Obi-Wan says when Anakin tells him of his choices. "They may surprise you yet."

Anakin snorts. His old master had been saying the same thing for years. "Feeling confident enough to bet on it?"

The older Jedi considers, watching the group of new recruits milling about. "You may be right about the Twi'lek and our dark-haired friend, but I think the young one might surprise you. She's got spirit."

"She's from Naboo," Anakin retorts. "Nubians wouldn't know a blaster if it stared them in the face."

Obi-Wan just smiles. "We'll see about that."

* * *

By the end of the first week, three cadets are gone. As Anakin suspected, the Twi'lek didn't make it through the first simulation. The Alderaanian managed to make it three days before being cut, and one of the more promising recruits suffered a serious injury in the last exercise that rendered him ineligible. 

To everyone's surprise except Obi-Wan's, the dark-haired girl is hanging on. She's not the best by a long stretch, but she's quick and smart. Rumour has it she's not one to take on in a verbal sparring match. 

Obi-Wan's smugness is getting on Anakin's nerves.   
The first simulation is in an old hangar bay at the edge of the complex. The cadets are supposed to make it to the surveillance post on the other side of the complex without being caught by the instructors. No one has ever succeeded. 

"Be kind to the cadets," Obi-Wan reminds him as they split up for their ambush. "They're young."

"I'll be as kind as any enemy on the battlefield," Anakin replies, palming his blaster. The bolts are meant to sting, rather than doing any real damage. "And you shouldn't be too soft on them. They need to learn."

And learn they do. Within ten minutes, Anakin has eliminated half the cadets. He's patrolling the perimeter near the surveillance post—it's much more fun to let them think they've won and then get them—when he hears a rustling from behind a crate. Grinning, he creeps over, blaster at the ready, prepared to attack the unsuspecting cadet. 

He isn't prepared for the jacket hanging from the side of the crate, rustling as it rubs against the metal. He hears footsteps behind him and turns, blaster ready, but only catches a glimpse of a dark ponytail slipping into the surveillance centre. 

Anakin stares after her, floored. No one has beaten the simulation; much less someone he predicted would be eliminated before training even began. 

Obi-Wan and the other instructors congratulate her, but Anakin can't. He's still trying to understand how she slipped past him. 

"Anakin?"

Anakin blinks, to find Obi-Wan and the others staring at him. The cadet is smirking. He swallows, trying to keep his temper in check. 

"Yes. Erm, you did well, Cadet..."

"Amidala." Her voice is clear, confident. "Padmé Amidala."

"Cadet Amidala." Her eyes are piercing and impossibly dark. Anakin has difficulty looking away. "Very, uh, resourceful."

Padmé isn’t the only one smirking now.

* * *

It isn't until after the simulation that she notices: General Skywalker keeps staring at her. 

At first, she tells herself it's because she beat him. Because she won the impossible simulation. After a week, though, she begins to wonder if she's doing something wrong. His presence is unnerving. She finds it hard to focus with his icy blue gaze burning holes in her shoulder blades. 

She knows she doesn't look like much. And she knows Skywalker thought she'd be the first to leave—the instructors’ bets aren't nearly as secret as they think. But she is determined not only to stay, but to be the best. 

It isn't until she hears a rumour that she is sleeping with Skywalker that she puts her foot down. This can't continue. It's unprofessional, and it's preventing her from performing at her best. 

She waits outside the officer's mess after training that evening. He looks surprised to see her, upset even, but she stands firm. 

"Cadet Amidala. Is something wrong?"

Padmé swallows. "I was wondering if I might speak to you, sir."

Beside him, Kenobi hides a smile. 

"All right," Skywalker mutters. 

He leads her around the corner, and waits, arms folded across his chest. 

Padmé takes a deep breath. "This needs to stop."

Skywalker frowns. "Excuse me?"

"The staring at me while I'm training. People are starting to get the wrong idea."

Skywalker smirks. "What sort of idea?"

Padmé's cheeks burn and she clenches her fists to keep her temper in check. She knows he's heard the rumours too. He just enjoys seeing her squirm. 

"They think we're seeing each other," she replies crisply. 

"Are they now?"

"Don't play the idiot with me," Padmé snaps. "Sir," she adds belatedly, remembering she is still talking to an officer. "This is a serious issue."

Skywalker nods gravely. "Oh it is serious. It's very serious." 

Padmé wants to punch him. "General, if you cannot speak to me in a respectful manner, then I will have to take this to the Admiral. I didn't want to cause any trouble, but I'll do what I have to to end this."

For a second, she fears she's gone too far, but Skywalker looks impressed. "You know, I was surprised you made it this far-"

"I know," Padmé cuts in. "We know about the betting pool."

Skywalker frowns, then laughs. "I suppose you would." He pauses. "I'm impressed with your work, Amidala. Not many women come out of training, and certainly not as many as skilled as you."

Padmé flushes and states at her shoes. Praise from General Skywalker is hard to come by. "Thank you."

"I'll do my best to stay away," Skywalker continues as he walks away, "but I can't make any promises. You intrigue me."

Padmé's not sure if this is good or bad. The warmth blossoming in the pit of her stomach makes her think the latter. 

* * *

He tries not to look at her. He knows it will only encourage rumours about the both of them, but he finds he doesn't care. There's something about her, something in the way she speaks, the way she carries herself, the way she quietly surpasses all expectations that draws him in. 

He's never seen a cadet progress so quickly. In the two months since the training began, she's moved from the bottom of the group to one of the top cadets. She understands her weaknesses, and works tirelessly to improve. He's never met anyone with her determination. 

And she’s deadly with a blaster.

He can’t seem to keep away, so he’s twice as hard on her. Obi-Wan tells him he’s treating her unfairly, and the blazing glares Padmé shoots his way tell him she’s furious, but the rumours about them have stopped.

Not to mention anger seems to motivate her even more.

* * *

The cadets are three months into their training before Anakin realises there’s a problem.

He’s returning to his quarters late one night after an assignment in the Ryloth system when he hears what sounds like a struggle coming from the mess hall.

Three of the bigger, tougher cadets have Padmé pinned against the wall. The biggest one has his hands around her throat, while the others taunt her, telling her she’s not such a great warrior now. It’s all Anakin can do to keep from drawing his lightsaber and slicing them in two.

Padmé’s foot lashes out before he has the chance. The cadet holding her drops like a stone, clutching his groin. The other two jump at her; the first gets an uppercut to the jaw so hard that he collapses, unconscious, and the second takes one look at the cold fury in Padmé’s eyes and runs.

Anakin doesn’t know what to say. He’s never seen a cadet take down attackers so calmly. It’s very…sexy.

“General?”

He’s been caught. Padmé stares at him, eyes wide. She looks surprisingly vulnerable.

“I heard a noise,” he says hastily. “I thought someone might be in trouble, but— Well, you obviously handled it.”

The corners of her mouth twitch, but the lively spark in her eyes is gone. “I— It’s fine. They were just being stupid.”

She’s trembling. She clenches her fists to try and hide it but Anakin can see the tremors rocking her frame. “It didn’t look like that to me.”

“I can handle it,” Padmé says quietly. “It won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t,” Anakin mutters. One of the cadets on the ground begins to stir. A quick burst from the Force and he’s out cold. “Come on. I’ll see you back to your quarters.”

They walk in silence for several minutes before Anakin’s protective instinct becomes too strong. “Is this the first time this has happened?”

“This bad, yes.”

Anakin feels the anger rising up in him again. His hand twitches to his lightsaber. “What else happened?”

Padmé shrugs. “Childish things, really. Pranks. Insults. Rumours.” She tilts her chin up defiantly. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“You shouldn’t have to handle it,” he growls.

“I knew this was going to happen when I came here, General,” she replies quietly. “I was ready for it.”

Anakin clenches his fists and releases them slowly. Going after these boys isn’t going to help the situation. Padmé will probably kill him if he does. “Just be careful.”

She smiles. “I always am.”

“I mean it, Padmé.” His tone is dangerously quiet.

She stills and he curses the slip of the tongue. He’s never called her by her first name before. “So do I. Anakin,” she whispers before slipping into her room.

Rumour about the attack spreads quickly through the compound. Padmé holds her head high when she goes to breakfast the next morning, and all the cadets applaud when she enters the mess hall.

Her eyes meet Anakin’s and he doesn’t try to hide his smile.

* * *

Halfway through the training session, they place their bets again, this time on who will graduate top of the class.

Anakin puts all his money on Padmé.


End file.
